beauty in the breakdown
by kelene
Summary: more from Band!au. Photography, touching, and Merlin realises something.


**Title: **beauty in the breakdown

**Author: **kelene

**Rating:** PG-13/K+

**Warnings/Spoilers:** None.

**Disclaimer:** Nope. Not mine.

**Author's notes: **A little more from band!au. The first would probably give a little more background, but does not need to be read. Thanks to nimori for the beta and the ideas for the ending; any remaining mistakes are my own. Title from Frou Frou's _Let Go._

**Summary:** photographs, touching, and Merlin realises something.

**Word count: **2,840

_drink up, baby down_

_are you in or are you out_

_leave your things behind_

_'cause it's all going off without you_

_-- let go – frou frou_

On stage, they all had their respective roles to play. Gwen, from behind the drum kit, provided the backbone to the music. She was the one that held everyone together, making sure they all stayed on track. Morgana liked to play close to the back of the stage, near enough to exchange grins with Gwen. Occasionally, she would go around to Merlin's little corner, when he was feeling the nerves rise inside of him and when the whole _screamingcrowdlightnoise _got too much. She could calm him down with a hand to his elbow or a reassuring smile. It was _scary, _how she could always tell when he was close to a freak out; it was almost like she was psychic.

Merlin, when he wasn't too busy freaking out, stood at his side of the stage with his head bent over his guitar, sneaking glances at the audience from under his fringe. He was good with smaller gigs, where he could actually see where the audience ended. In a big arena, it was easy to get overwhelmed by the sheer wall of noise in front of him. He loved the fans, loved the cheering, but he really did sometimes wish that they would stop screaming so much. Arthur lived it up, of course. He always got as close to the front row as he could without injuring himself (and even then they'd had a few close calls with some overzealous fans). Sometimes he would go to Merlin, wrap an arm against his shoulders to drag him forward to the barriers, and then sing pressed up against Merlin's side, microphone held close to his lips.

Merlin often tried to avoid those moments, because the noise always tripled in intensity, something that he'd never have believed was possible had he not witnessed it himself on multiple occasions. But Arthur, riding high on the adoration and adrenaline, could be hard to refuse, and even Merlin could get swept up in his energy. Being at the front with just Arthur in his line of vision, it was easy to remember the days when it was just the two of them sitting together in Arthur's room with guitars and notebooks propped up against their knees. This, the band, was their creation. His and Arthur's. And Merlin loved it more than anything.

When they had first gotten famous, it had all happened so fast. Suddenly there were people with their hands in his hair and putting all this _stuff _on his face on a regular basis, and taking_ photos _of him. The most Merlin had ever done in a morning grooming routine was brush his teeth in the shower, and then maybe glance in a mirror on his way out of the front door. Having to look good for the cameras though, that wasn't exactly what he had signed up for.

Morgana and Gwen took to it like ducks to water, of course, like they did with most things. The two of them loved every second of being in the spotlight. They loved the magazine shoots that allowed them to put on fancy clothes and get pampered by make-up people, and they could never get enough of the attention they received from the fans. They liked to giggle about it, sitting in front of a computer, logged into Livejournal, or whatever it was that the fans liked to use. They whispered together, throwing around words like 'slash' and 'omgsohot' while sneaking glances at Merlin and Arthur. They were never as quiet as they thought and Merlin had had enough interaction with the fans to know that, no, he really did _not_ want to know. It certainly did not help that lately, Arthur had been showing more of an interest in what the girls got up to, and Merlin had caught him being secretive with them more than once. Nothing good could come of the three of them scheming together, Merlin was sure of it.

-

"What are you doing back here? Hiding from the photographers again, are we?_" _Arthur smirked from the doorway of the room where Merlin was absolutely _not _hiding, thank you very much. And he definitely did not think that Arthur looked incredible leaning against the door frame. Of course _he _had no problems with photo shoots and the like. The prat actually liked all the attention. His looks helped, obviously. There was no need to be wary of the cameras making you look like an idiot when you were pretty much perfect from all angles. Merlin had these _ears, _and they were unmistakable no matter what angle the cameras were shooting from.

"And now you're thinking about your ears aren't you? For God's sake, they're fine. People think they're cute. _I _think they're cute. Didn't Morgana read you that thing by that fan online? What with the ears, and the fruit-"

"Yeah. Don't need to be reminded of that, thanks," Merlin cut in. Arthur's smirk had gotten positively evil. "That doesn't exactly make me feel better, knowing that there are people out there with a fetish for my ears. That's just creepy."

Arthur grinned and slung an arm around Merlin's shoulders to propel him toward the door. "It is creepy, but hey, flattering. No fan has ever said anything about having fetishes about _my_ various body bits. You get that very special honour all to yourself."

Really. Why was Merlin even friends with this guy? It certainly wasn't for his sense of humour. Merlin ducked under Arthur's arm and walked ahead to get away from further conversation on this topic. Arthur continued behind him, seemingly enjoying himself.

-

For this photo shoot, they were in a series of hotel suites. The idea was to capture the band lounging around and relaxing during down time. The photographer was a man who was probably around eighty, who liked to fawn over them with words like 'destiny!' and 'perfection!'. This wasn't the first time they had met, and Merlin had always found him a bit confusing and creepy.

Coming out of the bedroom, they stepped into the main area, which had been crammed full of assistants and photography equipment. Merlin heard Arthur splutter and stop speaking. He glanced over and found Arthur staring, mouth caught open in mid-speech. Merlin followed his gaze over to the centre of the room where the stylist was talking to Morgana. Morgana was wearing the lowest cut top Merlin had ever seen on a person, revealing a healthy expanse of cleavage. If it got any lower, it would probably count as topless in some countries. Merlin felt his face burn up at the sight, and he quickly cut his eyes away back to Arthur.

Merlin had long since given up trying to understand Morgana and Arthur's relationship; complicated didn't begin to describe it. But he did know that Morgana was not likely to react well to Arthur's ogling (not that Merlin could blame him. Morgana was _hot_)_. _He reached out and slapped Arthur at the back of the head, messing up his carefully styled hair. "Stop staring, you idiot, she'll murder you."

Arthur flushed a bright red, but came out of his daze. "I wasn't staring." He muttered, defensive, "Not much to look at anyway."

Merlin shook his head to himself; sometimes Arthur had to learn his own lessons, but he really was pathetic. Maybe Morgana wouldn't kill him, maybe she'd just injure him a little. Arthur could still sing with a few broken bones, after all. It wouldn't be the first time, not after that Bunks accident in 2007 where Arthur had achieved a broken little toe on his left foot and a sprained ankle after attempting what could only be described as sheer idiocy. Still. He had whined a lot in the time it had taken the bones to mend and when Arthur got demanding Merlin was inevitably the one who landed the role of manservant. That was not something he was eager to repeat anytime soon.

"She's your sister!" Merlin hissed and jabbed an elbow into Arthur's side.

"She is not! We 're not even related. And I wasn't staring!" Arthur hissed right back. Morgana glanced at them from across the room and they both stood up straighter and tried with all their might to not let their conversation show on their faces. Merlin was sure she could read minds when she wanted to. He never really knew when he was safe.

"You'd better not be!" Gwen said from behind them. Merlin and Arthur both jumped, guiltily. "You know she'd kill you both, right?"

Merlin knew that Morgana wasn't the only one who was scary in this band, that's for sure. Wisely, Arthur put an end to the topic and strode to the couch, on which the crew had arranged what seemed like a hundred pillows.

"Yes, yes! Sit down! I want the whole band on here." The photographer gestured excitedly for them to approach. "Just lean back and be comfortable. Yes! Very good!"

Merlin leaned awkwardly against the arm of the couch. Despite being obscenely lavish and large, the piles of decorative cushions meant that the four of them squashed together onto the couch with a little difficulty. Arthur's elbow got trapped against his ribs and they both shuffled around uncomfortably until Arthur huffed in annoyance and wrapped the arm around Merlin's waist instead. From the satisfied sigh of the photographer and the vigour with which he was taking the photos, Merlin would guess that that was part of the plan all along.

There was not much he could do though, as the small space and the slant of the couch forced him to lean into Arthur more to avoid being uncomfortable. Merlin could feel the muscles under the thin t-shirt that Arthur wore, toned from all the time he's spent in the gym perfecting them. Merlin refused to be impressed by them, and refused to feel all warm and snug pressed against them. Stupid vain Arthur, always working out, trying to make himself look even better. Merlin was never going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that Merlin was acting like a swooning twelve-year-old just from being held against him. But because the Pendragon siblings obviously shared psychic ability, Arthur smirked over at Merlin like he knew exactly what Merlin was thinking.

Merlin knew that smirk; he'd seen it more than once in recent weeks after Arthur had started to hang around with the girls and their internet connection. He was just waiting for the pin to drop, to see what they were plotting.

Arthur turned his head to flirt with the camera, and shifted in his seat. His arm slid further back and Merlin jumped as he felt the shock of a cold hand slip under his hoodie onto the bare skin above the waistband of his jeans. He struggled to keep it off his face as the photographer ordered them to smile.

"_Arthur,_" he hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. What?" Arthur was really good at looking innocent when he put his mind to it. The wide-eyed look he shot Merlin had the perfect mix of confusion and innocence. Merlin gritted his teeth and tried to edge forward to get away from Arthur's fingers, but the movement only gave Arthur more space to manoeuvre. His hand was warming up now against Merlin's skin, getting more comfortable by the second. And Merlin could feel the calluses on the tips of his fingers from years of guitar playing, sliding across his lower back as Arthur slowly moved. He worked hard to suppress the shiver that ran up his spine, but when he heard Arthur laugh under his breath, he knew that he probably hadn't been too successful.

"Arthur, your _hand_. Move!" Merlin tried once more. Gwen glanced over from the far side of the couch and gave him a pointed look and a grin. They were all in on it; trying to drive him crazy, Merlin was positive.

Arthur had always been touchy. He liked to go around with his arm flung around Merlin's shoulders, liked to express gratitude with a hand on Merlin's shoulder. He certainly never had a problem with grabbing Merlin in a chokehold. Granted that happened more when they were sixteen and Bitter Enemies. Recently though, something about it had changed. Not a minute would go by when the two were together without Arthur finding some sort of excuse to touch Merlin. Merlin's heart beat faster when Arthur was close, and once he had caught the panicked look on his face in a mirror as they had passed by it, Arthur plastered against his side telling a silly joke. Appreciating that Arthur was great looking and that everyone wanted him was one thing, joining the screaming hordes himself was quite another.

"Relax. Just look happy for the camera." Arthur obviously was having fun with this. Merlin's fingers itched with the urge to strangle him. Smug bastard. Maybe Merlin should just let Morgana kill him; it wouldn't be so much of a loss. They could always just find someone else to sing their songs. Then Merlin wouldn't have to put up with Arthur spending hours in the bathroom perfecting his hair every morning, wouldn't have Arthur ordering him around like a servant. Wouldn't have Arthur driving him insane with his blue eyes, and shoulders, and stupid _smile_.

So maybe Merlin wasn't exactly handling this very well.

-

Merlin saw the result of the photo shoot a month later when he received his early edition of the music magazine. The band stared out at him from the glossy centrefolds; they all looked happy and relaxed, like they were having the time of their lives. Merlin's eyes swept critically over himself in the prints. They were not too bad, truth be told. He looked okay in most of them – nothing too embarrassing, nothing he was never going to live down.

His attention drew to the smallest of them all, set above a paragraph where Morgana and Gwen chatted about being in a band with two boys who did not like to clean up after themselves. In the photograph he could just make out where Arthur's arm disappeared behind his back, and was flooded with tactile memory. Merlin was leaning forward toward the camera, but his head was turned away. He was looking to his left back over his shoulder. Looking at Arthur.

The camera picked up only half of his expression; his half open mouth with the corner pulled up slightly as he spoke and the brightness in his eyes as he looked back. He looked happy, but he remembered what it had been like with Arthur's hand tucked under his hoodie while they had been surrounded by the crew and stylists. The camera had failed to capture Merlin's discomfort. He had been embarrassed, bordering on annoyed, even. He'd felt like Arthur was making fun of him, using Merlin's uneasiness to entertain himself. They had barely spoken for days after that day, only resuming normal levels of touching and conversation after an arena gig three nights later. Their disagreements never lasted through a show. The adrenaline and the shared moments of perfect understanding and baring their souls in front of an audience washed away any ill feeling. They had made up, but Merlin hadn't forgotten.

He had never thought, even for a second, that Arthur was not playing with him. Arthur liked to assert his authority, his looks, his _existence_ over others. Merlin never thought that he was exempt from it just for being Arthur's friend. That was just the way that Arthur was, and if Merlin admitted it to himself, he _liked_ Arthur the way he was and wouldn't want him to change. It didn't mean that he couldn't get annoyed over it of course.

It also did not mean that he couldn't be wrong. And as Merlin stared at the photographs, he was struck by the realisation that he was so very wrong.

The Arthur in the picture wasn't being playful. Well, he was, but that wasn't all of it. The look in Arthur's eyes as he grinned back at Merlin wasn't one that Merlin had ever seen on him before, but he recognised it just the same. It was one that was becoming more and more familiar; he saw it in his own reflection in the mirror more times than he would like to admit, after all.

Merlin could recall the teasing looks that Arthur had given him the day at the shoot. And he could remember quite clearly Arthur's laughter as he had protested. Merlin had interpreted it all as Arthur's normal disregard for personal boundaries and common courtesy. Merlin couldn't understand how he had missed the blatant affection in Arthur's eyes, or the protectiveness that his body language suggested. And that look. When Merlin had seen that look in his own eyes, he had hesitated to give it a name, but seeing its twin in Arthur's, he knew that the only correct label would be _love. _

_so let go, let go, just get in_

_oh, it's so amazing here_

_it's all right_

_'cause there's beauty in the breakdown_

_-- let go – frou frou_


End file.
